


Love Games

by hannahindie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester - Freeform, Dean x Reader, F/M, Fluff, Romance, Sam Winchester - Freeform, han writes the things, hannahindie, innuendos, semi crack, spn fanfic, supernatural fanfiction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 13:36:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16873860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannahindie/pseuds/hannahindie
Summary: The reader accidentally tells Dean she loves him, and Dean being...well...Dean...can't let it go. Can the reader beat Dean at his own game...and does he want her to?





	1. Day 1-The Incident

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is based off the time I told a customer that I loved her over the phone when I started my job many years ago. Obviously, this is not what actually happened, but it made me giggle enough to make a drabble series for it. I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always appreciated it!

“I love you.”

Why? Why in God’s name had those words left your mouth? You had not intended on ending the phone call on that note, you didn’t even say it enthusiastically, it just…happened. You said it like you would have to your parents or your sister. It was off-handed, like a comfortable after-thought, but you said it. You said it, and now you’re standing there in dead silence contemplating how far you could get from the bunker in the time it would take for Sam and Dean to get home.

_“Uhhh…..what?”_

You shook your head as if Dean could see you, trying to think of a way to backpedal without making it really obvious that you had just confessed your love to the oldest Winchester, “What? I didn’t say anything, just saying bye.” Dean was quiet for a moment. You remained silent, hoping that he’d buy it and move on. Of course, Dean wasn’t going to let it go that easily. He never did.

“ _I’m pretty sure you just said you loved me, Y/N.”_

Your laugh was not remotely as convincing as you would have wanted it to be, “I’m sorry, Winchester, but I think you’re just making things up. Did you hit your head during that hunt?”

Dean scoffed, “ _Okay, Y/N, have it your way. We’ll be home soon.”_ As soon as Dean hung up, you threw the phone as far away from you on the bed as you could. This was no good. You’d been dancing around your feelings for months. You thought Sam might have an idea, but he’d never brought it up to you and you were not going to dare risk talking to him about it. This was not a conversation you were planning on having with anyone.

You threw yourself across the bed and buried your face into the comforter. “Shit.”

* * *

You were in the kitchen, still debating if running had been a better option than staying, when you heard the bunker’s front door slam shut.

“Y/N, where are you?”

You grimaced, knowing that the conversation you had been hoping to avoid was inevitable.

“I’m in the kitchen, Sam.” You heard two pairs of boots coming down the hall, so you kept your back towards the door and pretended to wash the same dishes you’d been pretending to wash for the last half an hour. You heard the rustle of grocery bags as the brothers started unloading whatever they’d bought on their way home.

“What have you been up to while we were gone?” Sam walked over and leaned against the counter and watched as you half-heartedly washed the same dish for the third time.

“Oh, you know, I cleaned. Straightened up the library…and speaking of which, maybe next time at least _try_ to organize the books you leave laying around on the table. It took me like three hours to find where they all went.”

Sam grinned, “Doesn’t take me that long.” He cocked an eyebrow at you, “What…what are you doing?” Damn him, he knew. Dean had told him and the way you were awkwardly washing dishes was certainly not helping the situation. If you could narrow your eyes any more at Sam, they’d be closed.

“I am washing dishes, Samuel. What does it look like I’m doing?”

He grinned, then leaned closer, his voice low, “Then you might actually want to wash dishes that need washed…you know, if you’re going for authenticity.”

“Shut up, Sam.” He chuckled and walked back over to the table and began putting groceries away. You heard footsteps approaching you and the creak of the fridge door as Dean opened it and began putting the cold groceries away.

“Hey, you know I love yo-“

Your head snapped around to look at Dean, “Excuse me?” He straightened and handed you a thing of Greek yogurt.

“Yogurt. I really love yogurt. You should try this, it’s my favorite.”

What was he doing? Yogurt? Since when did he eat yogurt, much less love it?

“What?” You could tell your face was probably giving you away, but this was ridiculous. He smiled gently at you, grabbed a spoon from the sink, and slowly opened a second yogurt.

“I know, it’s hard to believe, but Sammy here made me try one a few days ago and it’s pretty damn delicious.” He swirled the spoon and dipped out a mouthful, then slowly slid it into his mouth. All you could do was stare at his perfect, pouty lips as he wrapped them around the spoon. “Wanna try it?”

He held the spoon out to you, and you gently shook your head no, “Uhm…no, no, I’m good…” He smiled again, and you couldn’t help but notice the little bit of yogurt that was on his bottom lip. “You’ve got a little…it’s just, you’ve got…” you gestured towards his mouth and he raised his eyebrows.

“Is there something on my mouth?” His tongue slipped slowly across his bottom lip, clearing away the yogurt. He drew his lip between his teeth for a moment, then gave you a cocky grin. “Is it gone?” All you could do was nod. “Great!” He sat the yogurt on the counter and tossed the spoon into the sink. “I’m going to go clean our guns, make sure everything is ready to go for next time. I’ll be in the shooting range.” And with that, he strode out of the kitchen and you were left standing with your mouth agape.

“Wha…?” Sam chuckled quietly to himself and followed  behind Dean, leaving you wide eyed and confused. “What the hell?”


	2. Day 5 : Movie Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean continues to torture the reader, despite her attempts to avoid him. Sam joins in, and an innocent movie night turns into more innuendo than the reader can handle.

You had been walking on eggshells for days. Ever since Dean and Sam had come home and Dean had pulled that yogurt stunt, you were on edge. Dean hadn’t said anything else to you about it, but that could have been partly due to the fact you were practically living in your room. Avoidance was key, and so far you had perfected the art.

If Dean walked into the kitchen while you were in there, you managed to find a reason to go into the library; you were studying the Men of Letters way more than you normally would, to the point where Sam seemed impressed. If Dean came into the library, you’d go to the gun range; although already a decent marksman, you’d become even more proficient at a variety of weapons. If Dean showed up to the gun range, you would manage to find a way to slip off to the gym; even though it had only been a few days, you were already seeing an improvement and even Sam had noticed when he tried sparring with you and you’d managed to take him down. However, the extra time you were spending avoiding Dean was wearing you out.

What was truly bugging you was that even when you were in the same room with him, he acted like nothing had happened. You still spoke, and you always ate dinner with the two brothers. He never mentioned the dreaded “I love you” incident, which was worse. If Dean was anything, he was persistent, especially if he had a reason to pick at you. But here it was, five days after ‘L-Day’ as you’d begun calling it, and not a word had been spoken regarding your unfortunate slip of the tongue. Sam had even stayed quiet about it, which wasn’t unusual, but he also hadn’t mentioned how much you’d been camping out in your room or why you were working so much harder on stuff that previously you’d just gone through the motions with. His lack of concern was throwing you off, too. You were beginning to think maybe you were overreacting about the whole thing.

Well, that was until tonight.

“Y/N! It’s movie night, you in?” Sam asked as he popped his head into your room.

You glanced up from the book you were reading, “Yea, sure thing. Be there in a couple minutes.” He smiled and disappeared down the hall. For a moment you considered whether you actually wanted to join in, but finally worked up the courage to walk into the living room and sit on the couch. Sam had set up a bowl of popcorn in the center of the table and was chewing on a Red Vine when you settled in for the movie. You cleared your throat, “Where’s Dean?”

“Right here!” You jumped as he hopped over the back of the couch and sat down next to you…even though the whole couch was open. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, and he grinned.

“Sitting close enough?” you griped as you squeezed tighter to the arm rest.

“This is my spot. So yea.” He leaned close, “Sugar baby.”

You looked at him with wide eyes, “What did you just say?”

He looked at you innocently as he held out a yellow box of candy, “Would you like a Sugar Baby? They’re pretty good.”

“No…no thank you…I’m fine.”

“Suit yourself,” he said as he popped a handful into his mouth.

You cleared your throat, willing that your voice came out steady and not shaky and high pitched, “So, what are we watching tonight?”

Dean smiled again, and you realized with horror that tonight was his night to pick. “It’s a surprise. I think you’ll really like it, Y/N.” Sam slipped the disc into the player and sat back down. The beginning credits began rolling and you felt your stomach drop. He was doing it again. The son of a bitch had lulled you into a false sense of security and then pulled the rug right out from under you. You tightened your grip on the armrest and willed yourself to stay seated. There’s no way he was doing this on purpose, right?

“Have you seen this movie before, Y/N?” You barely shook your head no, afraid to even acknowledge that he was speaking to you. “It’s one of my favorites. I know it seems weird, but I love it. Guilty pleasure I guess.”

You whipped your head to look at him, “P.S. I Love You? You love P.S. I Love You? Are you kidding me?”

Dean shrugged, “A man loves what a man loves, Y/N. I can’t help that Jeffrey Dean Morgan and Gerard Butler are phenomenal actors.” You groaned and stood up to leave. There was no way you could do this tonight. Dean looked at you calmly, not a sign on his countenance that he realized what he was doing. But Dean was good, and you weren’t taking any chances.

“I just remembered I have some research to do. I…I’m just going to go somewhere else to do that.” You stormed off and Sam snickered lightly.

Dean, still with a look of innocence, shrugged, “Your loss.”


	3. Day 7: Dean Cooks Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader decides that hiding from Dean isn't going to solve her problem, and stops trying to avoid him. Dean decides to show off some of his lesser known skills.

It had only been a couple of days since movie night, and you had decided that avoiding Dean was not the answer to your problem. It had been exhausting trying to avoid him, so you’d decided to switch tactics. Instead of running away from the problem, you were facing it head on. And by facing it head on, you were just not running to your room every time you found yourself alone with him.

Things were quiet, though. Dean didn’t go out of his way to make you question his motives. He really wasn’t speaking to you much at all, and right now you weren’t complaining. Although the silent treatment was a little odd, you’d both been a bit busy the past couple of days, so you were chalking it up to that and nothing more. Sam hadn’t mentioned anything about your behavior or Dean’s, which had you thinking once more that you had imagined the whole thing. Although movie night had pushed it and made you think that Dean had ulterior motives (with a little help from Sam), it was beginning to look like as if he was already tired of the prank.

You had gotten comfortable in the living room and settled in with one of your favorite books when you saw Sam crossing the room and towards the front door.

“Where are you going?”

He stopped long enough to grab his jacket, “There’s a movie I want to see, foreign film in Kansas City, so I’ll probably be gone until tomorrow. Wanna go?”

You chuckled, “Nah, Sammy, I’m good. Have fun, and be careful.” He smiled and waved, and then you heard the echo of the bunker’s large door clang shut. You went back to reading your book and forgot that the older Winchester was still somewhere in the bunker.

You weren’t sure when you had fallen asleep or how long you’d been out, but when you woke you could smell something delicious coming from the kitchen. You stood and stretched, then slowly made your way across the cold floor into the kitchen to find Dean standing in front of the stove. He didn’t notice you at first, so you stood and watched for a moment as he swung his hips to whatever song was playing in his mind, and you wondered if it would be so bad if he knew how serious you’d been that first day. You shook your head; you needed to get it together. You cleared your throat, sat down at the table, and rested your chin in your hand. Dean threw a look over his shoulder, then went back to looking at whatever it was he was cooking.

“Would you like my sausage?”

Your arm slipped as you jerked your head up and you nearly fell out of your chair as you looked at Dean with wide eyes, “Would I…what?”

Dean turned around, frying pan in hand, and gestured at it with a spatula, “I got this bratwurst while I was out earlier and thought I’d make dinner tonight since Sam bailed on us. Would you like one?”

You looked at the pan, then back up at Dean who was looking at you expectantly, “Oh…yeah, sure, that’d be great. I’m starving.” He nodded then turned back to the stove. You wiped a hand across your face. He was definitely doing this on purpose, there’s no way he wasn’t. You were beginning to think Sam was in on this too, because it was too convenient that he left the bunker when he did.

Dean brought the sausage and peppers over to the already set table and dished out enough for the two of you. You grabbed a fork and a knife and began cutting into the bratwurst he’d sat in front of you. The smell alone was mouthwatering, and you groaned the moment that delicious sausage touched your tongue.

“Dean, this is delicious. I didn’t realize you could cook so well.”

He grinned, “Hell, me neither. Not until we moved into the bunker, anyway. Maybe I should do it more often, we’d have more than rabbit food like when Sam cooks.”

You chuckled, “Yea, that’s true.” You shoveled more of the delicious bratwurst into your mouth, spared a brief thought of how unladylike you must look, and then promptly ignored that thought as you took another bite of peppers and onions. “Mmm, seriously, Dean. Cook more, please.”

“I hope you can take the whole sausage.” You nearly choked on the piece of bratwurst you had just tried to eat, and had to cough a few times to clear it out. Dean looked at you, his eyebrows raised, “You alright?”

You cleared your throat one last time, “Yea…I’m fine. Just went down the wrong pipe.” You grimaced at the wording, “What did you say about sausage?”

Dean stood and started to clear his plate, “Just that those bratwurst are pretty big, I hope you can finish all of it and that I didn’t make too much.”

“Oh…yea…no, I think…I’m good. Yea, this isn’t…too much.” You willed yourself to quit talking.

Dean tossed the dish towel he’d used to dry his hands on the counter and walked over to stand next to you. He leaned down slightly, and you could feel his warm breath ghosting across your ear, “I hope you enjoyed my bratwurst, there’s plenty more where that came from.” You gasped loudly and for a moment you truly thought you’d combust. “I bought extra in case we liked it. It’s down in the freezer, you know, if you want anymore.” You nodded, but remained silent, and Dean walked off as if to leave the room. You breathed a sigh of relief until the sound of footsteps suddenly stopped.

“Maybe next time, you can try my kielbasa.”


	4. Day 10: Baby Gets A Bath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader decides she's had enough. She arms herself with booty shorts, all the innuendos, and the explicit use of classic rock to destroy a three point lead.

Three days had passed since Dean had cooked dinner, and things were once again fairly normal. The boys had left the next day for a hunt, a quick salt and burn, and you had stayed behind to continue reorganizing the library and to run point in case they needed anything while they were gone. While you were organizing and cataloguing things, your mind wandered to the events of the past few days.

It had become fairly obvious that Dean was purposely going out of his way to mess with you. You’d wanted to pretend that the first incident was pure coincidence, but after the movie and the dinner fiascos you were positive he was just toying with you. You were also fairly certain that Sam was in on it, despite his usual refusal to get in the middle of yours and Dean’s disagreements. That was something you’d take care of later, but Dean…Dean was the priority.

The problem was, you weren’t sure how to do it. You couldn’t involve Sam, and you had to make sure it was something that would really throw Dean off. You had to beat him at his own game. You had paced the bunker the whole time they were gone, but nothing you thought of had been discreet enough, none of it had been packed full of innuendos like Dean had so cleverly been devising.

And then Dean handed you the perfect opportunity, so perfect it may as well have been gift wrapped.

They’d come back from their hunt late, and Dean had gone to bed grumbling about how dirty Baby had gotten. It was too late to start anything, but it got your wheels turning as you laid in bed and thought about your plan. Dean was going to want to wash the Impala…and you were going to be there when he did. 

* * *

You woke to your phone buzzing and rolled over with a groan. You narrowed your eyes at the bright screen as you opened the text message.

_Hey. I could use some help washing Baby. Meet me in the garage in twenty. - D_

You groaned again, “Dammit.” He’d beaten you to the punch. That wasn’t going to keep you from your plan, though. You got up and dressed for the occasion, threw your hair up in a messy bun, and grabbed your weapon of choice. As you strode down the hall as if on a mission, you ran into Sam coming out of his room.

The moment he saw you, his jaw dropped, “What are you…umm…where…are you wearing that out?”

You glanced down, then back up at Sam, “I don’t see where that’s your business, but no, I’m not.” You stomped away, leaving him standing in the hallway slack jawed. You’d get to him later, but your sights were set and you weren’t about to be late. You got to the garage and looked at your phone; twenty minutes on the dot. You calmly ascended the stairs and mentally prepared yourself for the show you were about to put on. As soon as you reached the top of the stairs,  your eyes widened at the sight in front of you. You had thought Dean was setting you up, but you had underestimated the extent that he was willing to go.

The back door of the Impala was open, and all you could see was Dean’s ass, clad in denim cut off shorts, short enough that the pockets were hanging below the hem. You paused, taking in the scene in front of you, and then smiled as you realized you had the upper hand. You’d seen him first, so the element of surprise belonged to you.

You quietly walked up behind him as close as you could without him noticing. “Pretty hot,” you said just loud enough for him to hear.

He jumped and whipped around to look at you, “What the hell…” he trailed off as soon as he saw you. The outfit you had picked out had had its desired effect. You smiled sweetly as his eyes roamed over the mostly see through white tank that clung tightly over the barely there bikini top down to the even tighter black shorts that left little to the imagination.

“I was just saying that it was pretty hot in here, so it’s a good thing we’ll be washing the car. Maybe it’ll cool us down.” You walked over to the speaker and glanced back over your shoulder at him, “Do you mind if I play music while we work?” He slowly shook his head.

Point one to you.

You connected the auxiliary cable to your phone and synced up the song you had picked out the night before, then grabbed a bucket and sponge and walked over to the car.

**She’s my cherry pie  
Cool drink of water such a sweet surprise  
Tastes so good makes a grown man cry  
Sweet Cherry Pie**

You weren’t sure how to seductively hold a water hose, but judging by Dean’s face you were doing a damn fine job. All you were missing was the wind blowing through your hair.

**Swingin’ on the front porch  
Swingin’ on the lawn  
Swingin’ where we want  
‘Cause there ain’t nobody home  
Swingin’ to the left  
And swingin’ to the right  
If I think about baseball  
I’ll swing all night yea **

You dunked the sponge into the soapy water and begin scrubbing Baby, making sure to press yourself against the hood just enough to almost give Dean a show. After a moment of him gawking, he cleared his throat and began cleaning his half of the car. You thought you’d almost had him, but he was holding it together fairly well.

**Swingin’ in the living room  
Swingin’ in the kitchen  
Most folks don’t cause  
They’re too busy bitchin’  
Swingin’ in there ‘cause  
She wanted me to feed her  
So I mixed up the batter  
And she licked the beater **

You finished washing the hood and glanced up just in time to see Dean unbuttoning the thin flannel he was wearing. “ _What is he doing?_ ” you thought anxiously as you paused your show to watch him. He rolled his hips to the beat as he slowly pulled the flannel off before turning and making his way towards you, then turned and slowly made it over to where you were. You raised your eyebrows but said nothing, just kept watching as Dean shucked his shirt the rest of the way off and tossed it onto the table next to where your phone was.

“It was getting hard,” he said as he slipped past you. You swallowed thickly, unsure of how to respond. When you finally opened your mouth, only a squeak came out. “Too hard to wash a car in a flannel, even with the sleeves rolled up. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Point two went to Dean, the smug bastard.

**I scream you scream  
We all scream for her  
Don’t even try ‘cause  
You can’t ignore her**

Dean started to use the hose on the Impala, and you realized that if you were going to win this battle you were going to have to use this to your advantage. You quickly crossed to the other side of the car as he moved the hose and managed to get hit directly as he rinsed the soap suds off the slick black exterior of the Impala.

You pulled your hair down from the bun and shook out your long, messy tresses so that they hung past your shoulders in waves. “Jesus, Dean, you got me so wet,” you purred as you walked around the side of the car and circled around to where he was standing.

He dropped the hose and water sprayed everywhere, including all over Dean. “Shit, Y/N, what…”

You put your hands on your hips and tilted your head with a smile, “You need to watch where you’re aiming that water hose. We’ll end up with a bigger mess to clean up.” You bent down to grab the water hose and could feel him staring, so you gave your ass a little shake as you straightened up and walked towards the front of the car to rinse the suds away.

Point three goes to you.

**She’s my cherry pie  
Cool drink of water  
Such a sweet surprise  
Tastes so good  
Make a grown man cry  
Sweet cherry pie oh yea**

You began to spray down the front of the car and made sure to lean as far across the hood as you could, making sure that Dean could get an eyeful no matter what angle he was at. You looked at him and he’d quit even pretending to wash the car and was watching you instead as you practically washed the car with your body.

You winked at him. “What a dirty girl,” you said as you turned the hose off and sat it on the floor.

“What?” he croaked, his eyes wide as you grabbed your phone and walked past him.

“The Impala, she was pretty dirty. Nothing a little water, soap, and elbow grease couldn’t take care of.” You climbed the stairs and left Dean looking at you, mouth hanging open and unsure of what had just happened.

Winning point goes to you.

* * *

Sam looked up from the book he was reading when he heard what sounded like wet feet slapping against the library’s floor. “Why does it sound like-” He lost whatever he was about to say when he saw Dean, soaking wet and wearing only a pair of tiny cut off jean shorts. “What…?”

“She knows, man. She freakin’ knows.” Sam looked at his brother for a moment, then quietly gathered up his book and laptop and turned to head towards his room. Dean threw his arms up in exasperation, “Dude, you’ve got to help me.”

Sam turned back to Dean, “Nope, not this time. You’re on your own. It’s bad enough that she knows, but especially with you like that,” he gestured vaguely at the lack of clothes Dean was wearing, “I’m out. Good luck, man.” He disappeared down the hall and left Dean standing alone and soaking wet in the middle of the library.

“Son of a bitch.”


	5. Day 20: Taking Aim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader has one more trick up her sleeve to get back at Dean, but after losing the last innuendo battle, Dean has come prepared.

It had been a couple of weeks since your little show while washing the car, and things had been quiet. Well, quiet on that front; you’d been away from the bunker a majority of that time trying to clear out a vamp nest, quickly followed by a rougarou that was wreaking havoc in Sioux Falls. You’d spent the last couple of days resting at Jody’s and catching up with her and the girls while nursing the various injuries you’d managed to collect between the two hunts. By the time you made it back to the bunker all of you were still pretty exhausted, and you had spent a majority of your time holed up in your room sleeping and watching Netflix.

As you laid there, binge watching Friends and periodically napping, you had an idea. Although it had been fun to get back at Dean for messing with you, you were beginning to wonder if he actually meant anything by it. It was hard to tell with Dean sometimes, especially with all the flirting you’d seen him do in the past, and it occurred to you that you were going to have to pull out the big guns to find out. Your eyes widened, and you sat up as the mother of all ideas came to you. You were going to literally pull out the big guns. 

* * *

The plan was simple:

First, go to the gun range, get a variety of guns, and shoot off a few rounds. You were going to need to get those guns nice and dirty.

Second, the appropriate attire. You had nailed it when it was time to wash the Impala, but this was a whole different ball game. Luckily, you had just the thing to tie the look together.

Third, you would get Dean into the gun range without suspicion. This would be the hardest step with Sam out of the picture, but you figured once you started shooting it was bound to draw him out.

Fourth, innuendo the hell out of him until he finally came clean about why he started this in the first place.

You grabbed the gun you kept in your room and slipped it into the thigh holster you had bought a few weeks ago but had yet to use. This would be your secret weapon. You didn’t know for sure that Dean liked that kind of thing, but coupled with your tight jeans and the form fitting flannel you had picked out, you figured there was probably a good chance it would catch his attention.  

You grabbed your phone and portable speaker and made your way to the gun range. As you turned the corner you ran right into Sam, who had been reading a book as he was walking to his room. The book went flying and you stumbled backwards, your arms pinwheeling as you tried desperately to catch yourself before you finally landed flat on your ass. Sam was frozen, a look of horror on his face as he realized what had just happened and that you also had a pistol strapped to your thigh.

“Oh…oh my God…I’m….I’m so sorry, Y/N!” He extended a hand towards you to help you up and you waved him off, grimacing as you lifted yourself painfully from the floor.

“Don’t worry about it, Sam. I’m fine,” you grumbled as you bent to pick up the speaker and your phone and proceeded to stomp past him.

Sam put a hand on your arm, then immediately removed it when you shot a glare in his direction, “Where are you going that you need to be armed? Is there a hunt I wasn’t aware of?”

* * *

You looked at him for a moment, and a sly smile crept across your face, “You could say that, Sammy. You could say that.” 

You strode off and left Sam shaking his head as he picked up his book and continued towards his room.

* * *

Dean was in the garage tuning up Baby when he heard the first shots ring out in the firing range. He looked up from the engine and listened, his eyes narrowed in concentration. The sharp crack of another round being fired off piqued his curiosity, so wiped his hands off on the rag he kept tucked in his back pocket and made his way to the range. As he approached the door, the first few notes of one of his favorite songs began to play, and he couldn’t help but smile as that familiar drumbeat carried it into the first verse. He caught sight of her just as Brian Johnson’s dulcet tones began to echo through the range.

 _She was a fast machine, she kept her motor clean_  
She was the best damn woman that I ever seen  
She had the sightless eyes telling me no lies  
Knocking me out with those American thighs

And what a sight it was. She was wearing the flannel that had always been his favorite, the one that fit against her curves in just the right places, and a pair of jeans that were tight enough that they left little to the imagination. His eyes kept traveling down and stopped on the holster strapped to her thigh. “American thighs, indeed,” he muttered.

“Oh, hey Dean.” She had pulled off her ear protection and was looking at him.

He looked back at her, only slightly worried that she’d heard him, and flashed a grin, “Hey. Whatcha up to?”

“Just trying to get a handle on some of these bigger guns. Small hands, you know, gotta make sure I can get a tight grip and control them.”

Dean cleared his throat, trying his hardest not to obviously look at her hands, and nodded, “Yea, that’s definitely important. Don’t want to lose your grip, especially if you’re trying to cock it. Not the best time for it to slip.” He took a step closer and motioned towards the array of guns she had laid out, “Did you need any help? I can maybe give you some pointers.”

“Sure, that’d be great.” He slid in behind her and had to stifle a groan as she settled into her shooter’s stance and brushed her ass against him ever so slightly.

 _She told me to come but I was already there_  
Cause the walls start shaking  
The earth was quaking  
My mind was aching  
And we were making it

He leaned in and quietly spoke into her ear, “It’s really rigid.”

She turned to look at him, her eyes wide, “What?”

“Your stance. It’s too rigid. You gotta relax into it, your body knows what to do, let it.” She shook herself out, took a couple of deep breaths, then tried again. This time, she was standing perfectly, and Dean let his hands slip down her upper arms and to her elbows, where he pushed them closer into her body. “You don’t want to chicken wing it, keep your elbows in.” She nodded and pulled her arms in closer. Dean reluctantly released his grip on her and stepped back, “Alright, try it.”

Y/N leveled her eye with the sight, took a deep breath, and pulled the trigger. One, two, three times she gently squeezed it, and Dean could tell before they even brought the target in that she had perfectly hit the bulls-eye.

She looked back at him and winked, “Nailed it.”

_I’m working double time on the seduction line  
She’s one of a kind she’s just mine all mine_

She sat the gun down on the little shelf and leaned against the low wooden wall, “I needed that release.” Dean opened his mouth to answer, then immediately shut it. She raised an eyebrow and waited for him to respond.

“Release, huh?” Dean’s voice came out almost an octave higher than it normally would, and he cleared his throat, “Is that right?”

Y/N crossed her arms in front of her and nodded, “Yea. You know, as exhausted as the hunt made me, I just needed to blow off some steam. There’s nothing better than nailing a target, especially when what I’m using is bigger than I’m used to.” For a brief second Dean could have sworn her eyes had drifted down below his belt, but by the time he realized what was happening she had locked eyes with him again.

 _Made a meal outta me_  
And come back for more  
Had to cool me down to take another round  
Now I’m back in the ring to take another swing

Dean took a step forward, his eyes never leaving hers, “Not used to big guns, huh?” She shook her head, but stayed quiet as she looked up at him. He took another step towards her and slowly raised his hand. He could tell she was holding her breath to see what he’d do next, and just as he leaned in close enough that he could smell Y/N’s shampoo, he grabbed the gun from behind her and began dismantling it.

“The thing about big guns, at least to me, is that even though they may be harder to handle, the outcome is much more satisfying. You’ve gotta take your time, really aim, and when you squeeze that trigger it takes a little bit more pressure and then,” Dean mimicked explosions with his hands, then went back to cleaning the gun, “ _Boom_. If you’re good, if you’re real good…you nail it first shot. And that…talk about satisfying.” He glanced over at her and smirked. She was looking at him with her lips slightly parted and her eyes wide. He remained quiet for a moment as he finished reassembling the pistol and then laid it back down on the counter. “Y/N?”

She blinked slowly, and a light flush crept across her cheeks, “Yea?”

“Would I be able to nail it?” She looked at him silently for a moment, then laughed loudly as what he had just said sank in.

“That…that’s what you went with? Oh my God, Winchester, you could have gone with anything, and that’s what you decided was the best? I thought your innuendo game was stronger than that-” He couldn’t take it any longer and interrupted her tirade as he pulled her into him, his lips crashing into hers as his hands tangled in her hair. He had pictured this moment many times, wondered what it would be like to kiss her, what she’d feel like, how she’d taste, although he had imagined the actual moment going a little better. He wasn’t disappointed though, because he could feel her smiling against him, her soft lips moving with his.

He spun her around and sat her on the little shelf built into the wall and pressed himself between her knees. He groaned as he felt her tighten her legs against his hips. He slipped his tongue against her bottom lip and sighed as she nipped at his. She tasted like apple pie; how did she manage that? He found that he didn’t care when she parted her lips and met his tongue with hers. Y/N’s small hands slipped up his chest and met at the nape of his neck, her fingers brushing through the short hairs there. He realized, in that moment, that there was no other place he’d rather be.  
  
_Yeah you shook me all night long_  
Knocked me out I said you  
Shook me all night long  
You had me shaking and you  
Shook me all night long  
Yeah you shook me

Dean pulled away from her, both of them gasping for air, and smiled, “So, which one of us wins this round?” Y/N leaned in and kissed him again and pressed herself firmly against the hardness she’d felt earlier. She pulled back far too quickly for Dean’s liking and he groaned,  “Best two out of three?”

“I think we know who’s going to win, but sure,” she laughed as he gathered her up in his arms and began walking back towards his room. “Are you ready to put your gun in my holster?” Dean rolled his eyes but kept silent. “Your cock is gonna need to be a little faster if you want to win this one.”

Dean snorted, “My cock is plenty fast enough.” Y/N burst out laughing and Dean scowled, “You know what I mean.”

“How’s your trigger finger?” Y/N grinned as Dean frowned down at her.

“You’re not gonna find out if you keep this up.”

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up, “Speaking of keeping it up, I hope you don’t choke.”

“Oh, we’ll see who chokes, sweetheart. And it ain’t gonna be me.” He kicked open his door, gently tossed Y/N onto the bed, and then immediately took his pants off.

Y/N looked at him, eyes wide, and managed to stutter, “That round looks a little big for the chamber you plan on putting it in.”

Dean laughed, “I guess we’re gonna need some lube and a ramrod then.” He winked, sending shivers down Y/N’s spine, and slammed his bedroom door shut. “The range is hot!” Dean practically yelled, causing a confused Sam, who just happened to be walking by, to stop and look at the closed door.

He paused for a moment too long and heard Y/N yell, “Shooter, ready?”, followed by Dean’s response, “Pull!”

Sam rolled his eyes, “Took long enough, you weirdos,” and made his escape before any more gun related innuendos could assault his ears.


End file.
